


Outside The Trials: Stories Unfold

by Fishfootidentity



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishfootidentity/pseuds/Fishfootidentity
Summary: Twisted though they may be, the killers are still (at least partially) human. They cook, they clean (maybe) and most of all, they talk.





	1. Human Wants

When the four earliest survivors first arrived, they were put through one Trial round and they all died. They then came back alive in the vicinity of the Campfire, where they are meant to gather in waiting for the next Trial. It is in this place – and at times like these – that the survivors learn they have more in common with the killers than they wished.

At first, Dwight, Meg, Claudette and Jake were clueless as to what was happening: the Wraith that hung them on hooks and killed them was gone, but later returns to speak casually with the thickset man in overalls who brought the survivors bowls of food on a battered square tray.

Time passes. During oncoming Trials, they painfully uncover that the killers cannot be reasoned with, despite being approachable at the Campfire. The four even know what the three killers were in charge of: Evan the Trapper minds the cattle and cooks food for killers as well as survivors; Philip the Wraith forages the surrounding woods for plants and tubers; and Max the Hillbilly hauls clean water from a nearby creek.

At one point – during a meal they were given an hour before the next Trial – Dwight ate very slowly and Claudette recoiled when the Trapper handed her bowl to her. Jake is the most outward with his petulance, outright refusing his own bowl.

Evan set the bowl down near him and gave an exasperated sigh. He took off his mask to look the survivors in the eye.

“Listen – the only reason Philip and Max and myself are even trying to be nice to you folk is that the Entity asked us. It said to be nice and keep you survivors healthy so that you’ll give us killers a good hunt in the next Trial,” Evan spoke.

“So we’re like pets,” Meg stated.

“More like racehorses,” the large man in overalls corrected. He didn’t seem interested in sugarcoating as much as telling the blunt, true facts.

Dwight wasn’t sure what clicked in his mind or prompted him to act, but he said: “Will the Entity give us some good, proper bathrooms if we ask nicely?”

The Trapper collected his mask and eyed him. Dwight was about to flinch, afraid that the Trapper will yell at him. Instead the large man just uttered: “We shall see.”

As soon as the killer serving them food was gone, Jake slid his bowl to one side and scooted towards Dwight.

“What did you ask him that for? You know you’ll just be owing the Entity more favours, right?” Jake asked.

Dwight cleared his mouth of the current spoonful of bland gruel, then spoke. “I know escape seems to be the big objective here, but – I just want to make the best of things while we’re here.”

Meg nodded lightly, agreeing with Dwight. Dying usually restores them to their pre-Campfire levels of hygiene, which honestly isn’t much in her case. Meanwhile, after her evening jogs, she loved getting into the shower and cleaning up, but that banal part of her everyday life is gone – along with her everyday life, that is. She looked at Claudette; the quiet young woman doesn’t seem convinced that they the survivors can get what they want.

The four continued eating (or ignoring) their bland but edible food in silence and left the dirty dishes for some off-duty person to wash. If Dwight doesn’t end up washing the dishes himself out of habit, then the responsibility will fall upon Philip or Evan. Either of those killers could get out of dish duty by asking to be chosen for the next Trial. Unfortunately, the next Trial does not involve them.

* * *

The next Trial started little more than an hour after the survivors had their meal. Throughout that time, Meg didn’t cramp, and her stomach didn’t growl either. She was quick, quiet, and at the top of her game. Maybe it was the hope for comfort – maybe it’s the hope for new things to come that’s cheering her on, driving her to do her best on this Trial.

Meg wasn’t disheartened when the Hillbilly brought her down with one hit of his chainsaw, putting her on the hook that once held Claudette. Thanks to her, the others could escape through the gates…

Otherworldly claws pierced her and removed her body from the Trial. After that routine pain, there was the usual darkness.

But at the draw of her next breath, Meg opened her eyes to the sight of dog-sized spiders clearing a zone just outside the Campfire. Footsteps approached her as she stood up, and she is soon joined by her fellow survivors who made it through the gates and ran back to the Campfire. Together they watch as the Entity’s servants work to carry out Dwight’s offhand request.


	2. Limited Observations

Time is a sketchy concept in the Entity’s world. But while it is difficult to measure, events of note are remembered. For example, on an oncoming Trial, Dwight remained at the Campfire. Roughly ten minutes later, a scrawny young woman woke up a short distance from him.

“Hey,” Dwight greeted her, his voice soft.

The new survivor gasped and withdrew as he advanced. Dwight stopped in his tracks, observing anything about her that would give him common ground to approach her on. Her clothes are faded, her pants especially are scuffed and torn, and her hairstyle is certainly not acceptable at any place he has ever worked.

Fortunately for Dwight, Jake just arrived at the Campfire, waking up from his most recent death. One of his gloved hands went to check on his throat before he realised Dwight and the newcomer are around.

“Oh hey Dwight – this is Nea Karlsson. Nea,” he turned to her, “this is Dwight Fairfield. He’s also a survivor.”

Dwight smiled and waved in greeting at Nea, but she frowned at him for some unspoken reason.

“Who was the killer?” Dwight asked Jake.

“Also a newcomer. We call her the Nurse.”

* * *

This life is not too different from Nea’s previous one. When time comes for her to plunge into danger, she could use her skills to evade her singular pursuer. But other aspects of this life are not what she anticipated. After a while – a few weeks, maybe? – she manages to observe how things are run here.

The killers are more powerful only when they need to be. Outside the Trials, they are oddly human. They feed and look after the survivors, even wash their clothes. So despite her initial trepidation, she came to learn their names as well as the survivors’.

Then a new girl woke up at the Campfire, frightened and alone. Nea saw the signs of confusion in her: checking her shoulder for signs that she was ever hung on a meat hook, looking around to see if other people are present so that she can inspect her clothing… and the girl saw Nea.

Nea raised her hands to show that she meant no harm, and approached the girl slowly. “I’m Nea. What’s your name?” she asked.

“Laurie. Laurie Strode.”

“Right now you’re outside the Trials. You should be safe, mostly,” Nea explained, lowering her hands.

Soon the other survivors from the recent Trial woke up at the Campfire – Claudette, Meg, and then Jake.

Nea has been part of a Trial where every single survivor got sacrificed, but that did not happen too often, mercifully. “Who was the killer?” she asked the more experienced survivors, concern audible in her voice.

Laurie flinched and threw up her hands to shield herself. While Claudette remained at her side to comfort her, Jake and Meg stood up to glare at someone who is apparently standing behind Nea.

Nea got up and turned around to see a black jumpsuit. She had to crane her neck to see a lifeless white mask look down at her.

“Who the fuck are you, you creepy bastard?” she demanded.

The killer said nothing. The response came from Laurie, who lowered her hands and managed to stare down the killer.

“That’s Michael Myers – he’s obsessed with me.”

* * *

As the second-most recent newcomer to the Entity’s world of deaths and revivals, Nea paid attention to Laurie’s behaviour, how she adapts to this place. Overall, the blond girl is sweet and well-mannered to survivors and killers alike – all except Michael. The tall, masked man always followed her around, not letting her out of his sight, making her feel uneasy. At one point he even showed up out of nowhere to grab Laurie by the wrist.

Before this, Nea may have scoffed at Dwight’s hospitality when he tried to befriend her or show her around the Campfire and its facilities. But with Laurie, Nea felt that the delicate girl needs to know that she won’t have to deal with the living nightmare that is her stalker alone. So, among other survivors, Nea does what she could to protect Laurie from the Shape.

Little did they know, they were not the only ones who have qualms about Michael’s behaviour.

Sally the Nurse arrived at the carved-up oak tree shortly after Evan did.

“Problem with the new boy, too?” Evan asked her.

“He was watching from the treeline while Laurie and I hung sheets to dry. I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t want to worry her, but I think she still saw him,” Sally complained.

Evan lightly snorted. “This doesn’t sit well with us – and we’re killers! – so I doubt it sits well with the Entity either,” he replied.

_No, it does not._

Evan heard the Entity’s voice, and judging by Sally’s expression, she heard it, too. The two killers faced the carved oak and bowed their heads. When they hear the Entity’s whispers, it is so they can find the survivors during trials. When they hear the Entity speaking clearly, it is so they know what must happen.

_If the survivors are accustomed to too much discomfort all the time, then their Sacrifice will be flavourless._

“What will you have us do?” Evan asked.

_Bring the Shape to me. I will explain the rules to him again, in more detail._

Sally could feel her skin crawl. At the Entity’s last three words, she could see spiders of various shapes, sizes and colours skittering at the roots of the carved oak. 

* * *

“Has anyone seen Michael?” Laurie asked.

All of the survivors are at the Campfire, with Nea lazing around, Claudette drawing in a notepad, and Meg watching Dwight and Jake build a structure out of twigs.

“Last I saw him, Evan said that he had to go somewhere,” Meg answered.

“D’you think the killers are tired of his creepy behaviour and sent him to HR for disciplinary action or something?” Dwight wondered.

“Dwight, you’re such a nerd,” Nea shot up.

Laurie sat next to Nea on the log. “I’d rather know where he is, y’know, so I can avoid him. But if he’s away, then I can relax.”

“Then _we_ can relax,” Nea corrected. “We care that you’re safe.”

Dwight was about to open his mouth to speak, but then Jake placed his hand on that mouth to close it. The shenanigans made Claudette giggle and Meg smile. Now, sitting there with Nea’s head in her lap, Laurie smiled fully and in earnest. She is among friends, enjoying ordinary things.

However, chores become a sort of inevitability even at the Campfire.

“Nea, you’re with me. We’ve got clothes and sheets to fold,” Sally called out.

“Claudette and Laurie, you have kitchen duty with me and Michael,” Evan said next.

Laurie could see worry on Nea’s face, but she gave the shorter woman a reassuring nod. They know what old Evan McTrapper is like: always adheres to the rules or some other old ways. Besides, Nea trusts Claudette to keep Laurie company.

When Laurie and Claudette arrived at the kitchen (cleaned and expanded ever since Dwight’s bathroom suggestion), Michael is there, his mask absent for the first time since they first saw him in the Entity’s world. As Evan gave them their duties – Laurie at the grill, Claudette in charge of vegetables – they couldn’t help paying attention to the focused expression on Michael’s face.

And his intimate familiarity with various knives for their respective purposes.

While Laurie waited for the meat on the grill to cook, she watched Michael cut up various ingredients – a bit more meat, some vegetables, onions and leaves for seasoning – all with skill she never knew he had. Then again, she probably should’ve expected someone who wields a kitchen knife for years to know what kind of knife he’s wielding for which specific use.

“Claudette, bring me the lettuce from Michael. Laurie, is the current batch done yet?”

Evan’s voice brought Laurie’s wandering attention back to the grill that she was supposed to mind. She checked that both sides of the current batch of meat cutlets are cooked to medium well – not many like it well done here – and plated them for Evan to deal with.

After passing the vegetables for Claudette to clean, Michael brought a chopping board loaded with more meat to the grilling station. Laurie tried not to stare at the man who had often stalked her and tried to kill her, and hastily took the board from him. He did not grasp her hand this time, and neither did her stare directly at her. Instead, his eyes followed the next batch of meat to where they end up on the grill, watched Laurie’s hands sprinkle salt and pepper as needed.

Then he left and returned to his own kitchen table with his empty chopping board.

* * *

Busy survivors or killers on duty were given time to clean or freshen up before the next meal. At this time, they are all – to some degree – human.

 Nea had finished washing her hands. She went down to sit next to Laurie, meanwhile hearing Dwight ask Philip the Wraith about being on the next outing.

“How did cooking go? Are you okay?” Nea asked Laurie.

“I’m fine, actually.” Nea would have doubted the words, but Laurie’s calm expression backed what she said. “Michael was – he wasn’t wearing his mask. He was just chopping vegetables and meat like Evan told him to.”

Nea was still unsure if what Laurie said was true.

“Trust me, I have never seen anyone chop ingredients like he did, not even my mom,” Laurie joked.

Out of the corner of her eye, a dark shape was coming closer. It was Michael, still unmasked, yet still wearing his jumpsuit.

Both women turned to look at him, Nea tightly holding her fork in case she had to come to Laurie’s defence.

It is to their surprise that Michael spoke in a soft voice: “You cooked very well, Laurie.” He only came to say those words, and then left to bring his dishes to the sink.

Only when he was gone did Nea let her guard down. “Okay. That’s weird, but apparently true. The reprogrammed Michael part, that is,” she remarked.

“I was about to say,” Laurie resumed the conversation brightly.

* * *

He could have saved some anger for the two sycophants who directed him to the spider-tree. He could have directed his anger at the spider-tree’s living soul itself. But he has no power over that soul.

When he was taken to the spider-tree, he was kept in place, tortured in ways no one in his previous or current life must have known. When he left that tree, a thumbnail-sized arachnid remained near his left ear to remind him what would happen if he were to behave out of control again.

He would be taken back to the spider-tree. He wouldn’t want that, would he?

So he watched his beautiful obsession walk freely or follow the orders of the sycophants that supposedly maintain stability. He has no control over her… for now, anyway.

At mealtime, he could see he instils fear in his obsession and her scrappy little friend. But then after he says what the spider at his ear told him to say, the fear has gone.

_See how the girls relax when you are civil,_ the spider told him.

‘So?’ he wondered. Belatedly he regretted if he sounded rude to the spider and its keeper.

But the spider was patient. _I know you believe it when people say you are not human. While that is true, I say it’s still useful to pretend you are one._

Useful, yes. He remembered when Laurie allowed him to get close, all because he wasn’t staring at her in particular.

_They all let their guard down eventually. Bide your time. There will be a point in the future where I grant you the chance to taste their soul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter went longer than I intended it to. With many horizontal lines.


	3. Excursion Gamble

As with any period of life, a certain pattern turns into regular rituals for the people of the fog. From time to time, that pattern becomes disrupted, changing into something new, thanks to the Entity dragging in more survivors and killers.

With an increasing number of survivors at the Campfire, the adjustment of newcomers becomes easier. Ace Visconti, for one, brings a breath of cheer – although Lisa the Hag proves to be jolly as well. Old Bill Overbeck has much to teach, especially in terms of game-changing perks. Feng Min is an unexpected kind of survivor, and in the wake of her arrival, Doctor Herman Carter brings an element of unpredictability both inside and out of the Trials.

The Entity did not mind working its servants to expand the facilities, now called the Compound. After all, as long as the survivors believe in their merry little world, they will have hope – a constant, renewable stream of hope to be devoured during the Trials.

Little did Jake know, he is the closest to the truth in terms of how the Entity felt about the survivors – although Claudette has been dutifully taking notes, recording and making inferences about how the Entity works. Her habits, however, have not gone unnoticed by the Doctor, who – as Claudette and Jake found out – is a total nerd.

“Pardon my intrusion, but I must say I respect a fellow scientist, typically one in its purest form. You are documenting your findings on the Entity, yes?” Herman asked Claudette.

“Um… yes?”

“Oh, no need to feel so intimidated,” he said as he took a seat at the common room writing table opposite her. “This may come as a shock to you, but I’m not here to take your notes away. It’s a terrible thing, to lose out on further research.”

Jake slammed his forehead on the desk when he realised the Doctor made an awful pun.

Claudette said nothing, studying Herman Carter’s face. Most times she’s seen him, the Doctor would be wearing his headgear, but now they are not in a Trial. His eyes are downcast, and his lower lip stuck out.

Jake looked up from the desk to see the tall killer pouting. Jesus Christ.

“I’ve read your file. You… met the Entity around the time Mr Stamper tried to stop the experiments?” Claudette asked.

“It was hard to say when I met the Entity, but I _was_ promised the opportunity to pick up where I left off.”

“Will your continued experiments involve us survivors?” Jake questioned Herman this time.

The tall killer gave a smile resembling one he wore with the Entity directing him. “We’ll see,” he promised Jake. He turned to Claudette. “But foremost: you don’t have to worry, because I admire your efforts. Who knows, one day we’ll write a monograph on the Entity together.”

“Thanks, Dr Carter,” she said with a small smile, slightly less intimidated now.

“No, please – you may call me Herman.”

Dwight and Ace are calling Jake away for something. Jake glanced at Claudette; she then gave him a reassuring nod. He nodded, but still gave Herman a questioning look before he left the room.

“That young man doesn’t seem to like me very much,” Herman stated, eyes trailing Jake’s exit path.

“Jake’s just cautious about being friendly with killers, that’s all. Then again, maybe…” Claudette shook her head.

“Maybe what?” he asked, leaning forward as if conspiratorially hearing a secret.

“He read your file, too. It said you were fast-tracked into a programme offered by Yale.”

Herman reverted to a normal posture in his seat, frowning. “What does he have against Yale? Did the university reject him?” he wondered.

Then Claudette confided in Herman the matter that a close person in Jake’s life (his older brother) graduated from Yale, and that success rather significantly contributed to Jake becoming an outsider, venturing far into the woods. Landing him here.

Naturally, Herman gets fascinated by the psychological struggles that have formed Jake as a person, but Claudette begs him not to pester Jake about the matters of his past. Herman grumbled a bit, but he relents – for now. Oddly enough, this thing with Jake brought up a memory from class about ethics: something about “you can’t help them if they don’t seek to help themselves”.

* * *

“Over here,” Ace whispered.

The second-oldest survivor at the Campfire led Dwight and Jake to a place far beyond the Compound and out of sight of the oak tree that the killers visited so often. Looking around, satisfied that the three of them weren’t followed, Ace sat down in the gravelly clearing.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Jake asked him.

“Ace said he’s gonna try to escape,” Dwight answered instead.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” Jake exclaimed.

Ace raised his hands. “Okay, hear me out: those killers sometimes bring you out to the real world, right? Let’s say – you get separated from them, and they can’t find you because the main world isn’t the Entity’s world. How about that?”

“It’s too risky for me,” Jake remarked, folding his arms.

“Yeah, I don’t know either. After all the Entity and the killers have given us, I think they’d feel betrayed if we tried to escape all of a sudden,” Dwight said.

“Betrayed?” Ace repeated. He stood up, a frown on his face. “This place is all about the killers betraying _us_. They pretend to be nice to us, but when time comes for their demigod to feed, they hunt us down and kill us. I’m surprised no one else has tried getting outta here.”

“We _did_ try – way before Dwight asked for the first toilets,” Jake explained, his voice firm.

Dwight touched his chin, spectacled eyes on Ace. “How are you going to succeed where we failed?”

Ace Visconti smoothed his expression. “With an appetite for risk and my best poker face.”

Jake rolled his eyes. He turned to leave. “It’s your funeral, bro,” he said before walking away.

“Poker face!” Ace said, louder.

* * *

Realistically speaking, with so many survivors and killers at the Campfire, it is difficult (although not impossible) to make sure everyone sits down for a meal at the same time. With the Compound expanded to include a dining hall, however, the difficulty is lowered a few notches.

On the other hand, not everyone feels like spending much of their time in a crowd. Or maybe not everyone agrees with the food prepared for the night. The cooks understand; the loners will creep into the pantry to get something light or different, and they will eat somewhere away from the noise and the clatter.

Not tonight.

Lisa’s arrival at the Campfire meant she had to take up duties outside the Trials, and her chore of choice is cooking. The survivors (and some of the killers) had to overcome preconceived notions of what the Hag cooks and eats, and as it turns out, she has more geographically adventurous tastes than Evan, who until recently heads the kitchen.

Tonight the Campfire is having lamb and chicken kebab with possible sides of coleslaw, Mediterranean rice, thick fries, or toasted naan.

“You recreated all this from a brochure Evan brought back?” Philip asked Lisa.

“Oh, sort of. I can’t account for the authenticity, though – I just rely on the spices used in those ‘ready-to-microwave’ rice dish packets,” she explained modestly.

A few killers laughed heartily in unison. Even Michael – his mask removed for mealtimes – is smiling.

Now, Ace has observed that around this time, one of the survivors will try to join in. Dwight will say something innocuous or naïve. Claudette would be curious yet too shy to ask questions, and while she has done it once or twice, Meg more often does it for her. Nea or Feng Min might chime in with their own experiences, whereas Laurie is contented to listen. Bill rarely talks when the killers are around.

“Huh. Did someone put that in the shopping list, or was it someone’s impulse buy?” Ace asked this time.

Claudette raised her hand to glasses-level. “Impulse buy when I was out with Philip,” she said.

Ace nodded twice. The conversation is heading right where he wants it to. “I hope you fellas don’t mind me asking this, but – how do you decide who goes out? And do you like it?”

An ominous silence fell among the killers. Noticing this, the survivors that were nattering soon clammed up as well.

“Finally someone says it!” Herman announced comically.

“This isn’t even the right context,” Jake muttered in a low voice.

“Fucking fine, whatever, I’ll go first,” Evan said. “The outside world is crowded and noisy. I’d rather stay and work around the Compound.”

Max the Hillbilly nodded but said nothing. Noticing eyes on Max, Evan helpfully provided: “Max never goes outside. He’d be too easily noticed.”

At the word ‘noticed’, Evan’s eyes briefly darted to Jake. Ace wondered what that was about.

“I like going outside, though. It reminds me that there are always new things in the world,” Philip moved the conversation along.

Bill pointed a half-eaten fry at Michael. “Does Stoneface here ever go outside?” the war veteran asked.

Michael only gave him an icy stare.

“He only wants to go whenever I go,” Laurie answered for him, shrugging a little.

“I ended up having to chaperone them _and_ look after Nea once,” Sally complained. “Now the Entity chooses me to lead the next outing.”

Huh. Ace gets the proper answer to the former of his questions.

“Oh, boo hoo. I _love_ going outside, but Daddy Longlegs don’t like letting me, just because I always stop by a good local eatery every time,” Lisa told the Nurse.

“I don’t mind the outside world, personally. It’s just –” Sally glanced away for a moment, “– it’s the harassment I get from men, no matter what face the Entity gives me.”

Ace thought the Hag was going to say “You could always eat the rude” in her usual joking manner. However, she just spoke in agreement: “The outside world is pretty terrible.”

Much of the commotion at the dinner tables died down, but a few gabs continued after Sally, Lisa and Meg left the table. Even more people, however, left when there are only plates and cutlery to collect and deliver to the sink.

Before Ace left his seat, Herman came over and gave him a nudge.

“I’ve never led an outing up until now. How d’you think I’ll do as a regular human?” the Doctor asked.

Ace gave the tall man an appraising look. “You’ll handle the outside world as well as Philip does, but while he’s gentle, some people are gonna find you overbearing.”

Herman bent down so that he can reach Ace’s face-level.

“Oh, you’re good.”

* * *

Ace has gone out before with Feng Min, Lisa, and Philip. There wasn’t much he can do by himself then, even when the killers were doting on the young gamer girl. This second outing, however, is a routine grocery run, and it involves only him and Nurse Sally.

After they stood in front of the carved oak tree to be disguised by the Entity, Sally led the way to a place that resembled the Autohaven Wreckers Trial locations. Ace noted one significant difference about this place: it houses several cars, all parked neatly and appearing to be in functional condition.

Sally unlocked the doors for a medium-sized red hatchback. Ace was confused at first because the passenger seat for this car is on the driver’s side of most cars he’s been in.

“What – you think all cars have left-side driver’s seats and drive on the right side of the road?” the Nurse teased him.

“It’s not culture shock, honestly,” Ace said defensively. “I have been to London, but that’s decades ago.”

Sally sniffed and got in the car, closing the door, putting on her seatbelt and placing the key in the ignition, all in swift coordination.

Ace tried not to stare. He sat, closed his door, and buckled up awkwardly. Even in his past life, he would only rarely use the seatbelt.

“As a servant to the Entity, I hereby cordially remind you that this outing is a privilege… yadda yadda, all that,” Sally spoke, not even looking at him.

The red hatchback quietly hummed to life, and the two depart for a vague road that stretched seemingly endlessly – and yet at one point Ace could see what could only be sunshine. He couldn’t help but relish the thought of being out of the Entity’s realm.

Then a little sunshine turned into a lot of sunshine. It’s a hot day out, wherever this is.

Sally had been prepared for this, reaching to lower the sun visor on the driver's side.

Ace neglected to bring his sunglasses along for this outing, so he lowered his visor as well. He noted with curiosity, however, that both the driver’s and the passenger’s visors have small mirror flaps so they don’t have to use the rearview mirror for, say, cosmetic purposes.

But the mirror showed him the face given to him by the Entity. It is the look of a man his age, of his ethnicity, but it had none of his good looks.

It’s so plain that it’s forgettable.

He closed the mirror and leaned into his seat. He figures that must be the way the Entity likes it. No one – not even debt collectors – can find him if his looks fade from their memory.

Leaving the highway and entering a town, Ace paid attention to how Sally drove. He wished he didn’t need to; it was scary. Part of him rationalised that Sally is used to getting from one place to another quickly, and as much as he thought about verbalising the statement, he could not.

Maybe Sally preferred it this way: no conversation while she’s driving.

To Ace’s relief, they soon arrive at the basement parking of an orange building. Once the car is parked and the doors are unlocked, Ace scrambled to get out.

Sally calmly unbuckled and retrieved her handbag from the rear seats. “Let’s go get this over with,” she said.

Ace remembered what Sally once said about despising being harassed by men, no matter how she looked. After the drive, he feels unsure about how he can bring up any topic with Sally, but as long as he’s with her on this outing, he’ll watch out for anyone looking at her funny.

“Oh, also –” Sally rummaged inside her handbag and took a wallet out, passing it to him, “– here’s some money in case you need to buy stuff while I’m not around.”

Ace received the wallet and counted its contents in a flash. Three hundred in local currency, whichever country they’re in right now.

“Wow. Really?” was all he could say.

“Yes, really. Now let’s move along,” Sally chided him.

* * *

They went about their business in the hypermart – Sally identifying needed items on her list, and Ace insisting that he does the heavy lifting of objects (even though they both know Sally can lift his weight and probably more). They do need to keep a low profile, after all.

Sometimes a toddler can be heard screaming their lungs out from two or twenty aisles away. Ace watched Sally with caution, but she only clenched her fists on the shopping cart handle… as far as he knows.

So Ace hurried on, unconsciously adopting Sally’s desire to get out of the place as soon as possible, although for different reasons on his part.

They worked as one at the checkout counter. Soon enough, their prizes are neatly packed in reusable cloth bags, and they loaded them into the red car.

That was when Ace hatched his plan.

“Ah, Sally, could you wait in the car for a bit? I really need to go to the bathroom,” he said to her.

Sally sighed. “Fine, go. Good luck finding a clean one, though,” she remarked.

He nodded in thanks and hurried back into the mall. Unbeknownst to her, he is not heading to a bathroom, but to the upper entrance on the complete other end of the mall. There are cabs lined up and waiting.

Ace reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He approached the open window of a waiting taxi with a confident stride, but he stopped when he saw that the money was gone.

He didn’t know how, but despite being in his pocket since Sally gave the wallet to him, its contents have changed: from three hundred of the local currency, into sachets of bog laurel and crispleaf amaranth… plants that serve as offerings at the Campfire.

Ace stored away his wallet and headed back inside. When money is no longer an option, he will have to take advantage of people’s kindness. It worked for him, usually.

He found what seems to be an information centre. On his way there, he wondered what he should say or where he should go if offered a ride. He could say he needed to go to the police station… or a hospital, that’s even better.

But before he could even reach the counter, the woman queuing before him turned her head.

It was Sally.

“Is that your husband, ma’am?” the lady at the counter asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry for bothering you,” Sally told her.

“It’s no problem at all, ma’am,” the lady said, smiling.

Sally wrapped a hand around Ace’s back, making sure not to lose him this time. She needn’t have worried; he cooperated for the rest of the journey home.

The Nurse had a pleasant, wordless drive back to the Campfire. Ace, on the other hand, was trying internally to address the abrupt situation that is becoming his reality: the great odds that the Entity expected his attempt to escape, and that It can sense his intentions and see where he is at all times.

No punishment awaited him at the Campfire or Compound. The new feeling of despair is punishment enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I’m slightly better at writing humour than serious stuff.  
> Oh. I drive a red hatchback, and in my country, the driver’s seat is on the right.


	4. Unpleasant Consequences

When Sally drove home with Ace after his failed escape attempt, she did not speak of the incident aloud. Rather, after putting the groceries away, she went to the carved-up oak tree to report to the Entity that Its contingencies worked this time.

There is no boast to come from success; it only teaches one that the next challenge will be harder. So, on top of having Its servants build permitted facilities for the resident survivors, the Entity also has to out-predict the deviousness of the hopeful humans.

On Ace’s end, the Entity allows him to disclose how his attempt went. The anecdote can serve to illustrate his ineptitude in the eyes of other survivors, or prove to the lot of them that escape is impossible, even on outings.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get punished for this,” Dwight commented when Ace shared his story in a gathering of only survivors.

“Being dragged back here is punishment enough, I’d say,” Nea replied.

“It certainly feels that way,” Ace said, breathing out at length.

Bill removed his cigarette from his lips. He wanted to say something, but then decided against it, thinking it would be a waste of his breath. These youngsters think of the killers as their friends, as if they don’t remember that during Trials these same friends won’t hesitate to kill them.

His unspoken words were proven right at the next Trial. As soon as he unhooked Ace, the Hag interrupted their rescue, injuring Bill once. The two men ran in different directions, and Ace benefited from Bill’s Borrowed Time perk as the killer attacked him, too. But despite the gambler’s best efforts at running, the Hag managed to hunt him down. Once Ace properly enters the Dying state, she lunges at him, permitted by the Entity to kill him by her hands – and mouth.

His insides were tender.

* * *

When the heat from the escape incident has died down, a semblance of normalcy returns to the Compound. After some time, the place continues to welcome new killers and survivors, as usual introducing them to existing survivors during Trials.

There was high-pitched screaming when Dwight narrowly avoided a thrown axe. Though they feel bad for their nervous team-mate getting found and chased first (as usual), Meg and Laurie took advantage of this situation by completing a generator.

The new survivor gave the ladies his name, David King, then asked which of them was the one being chased by the axe-wielding killer. That was when Dwight finally got knocked down, and they are able to see his prone figure from across the rainy map. While the killer carries Dwight to a hook, Meg gestures for David to come with her so that one of them could distract the killer while the other rescues Dwight.

David caught on to the needs of the Trial, convincing himself that it’s just a dangerous game. His lacklustre repair skills prove to be a hindrance to the other survivors at the moment, so he focused on distracting the killer or helping injured survivors instead.

At one point, he tried to jump and catch the rabbit-masked killer by surprise, but the impact of his weight barely even moved her. The behemoth in hunter’s clothing rounded up on him and gave chase. Although the remaining survivors (Meg and Laurie, since Dwight died early on) shouted for him to run towards the exit, he continued leading the killer on a roundabout chase, angering her enough that when she finally downed him, she hung him on a hook and stayed there instead of pursuing the other survivors.

Waking up at the Campfire next to Dwight, he was later shocked and confused by how friendly the survivors and killers are with each other.

Despite the initial distrust and hesitation, David and Anna (the Huntress) soon learn the rules of conduct. Anna, in particular, had to adapt to living with other people. She was lucky to have Sally, Lisa, and even Laurie help her adjust to life at the Compound.

Then the Cannibal arrives later, accompanied by no new survivor.

In reaction to this, some of the survivors begin dreading that the Entity will one day bring enough killers to outnumber the survivors. Their dread, however, was isolated and short-lived.

Reason one: ever-smoking Bill arrived with no corresponding killer, giving rise to the possibility that this can happen again.

Reason two: although the Cannibal is frightening to face during the Trials, Bubba “Junior” Sawyer turns out to be a soft and insecure fellow, eager to earn the approval of others.

Reason three: the next killer appears alongside a new survivor.

* * *

The survivors knew it wasn’t going to be a normal Trial when only three of them have been called to the Campfire. Feng Min and David appeared in the map together when the Trial began, with Nea joining them on a generator soon enough.

Then they encountered a young man, his beanie-wearing head hanging loosely, as if he was asleep from the neck up while his body is awake.

His last word before he gets downed: “Run.”

Min and Nea remember well enough that they are in a Trial (and there will be time for introductions later). David, however, remained near the new survivor. After green smog came into his vision for a while, he could see the killer that attacked his comrade: a small burned man with metal claws on a gloved hand.

David clenched his fists and jaw; on an ordinary day, in an ordinary world, he would not have hesitated to tackle the burned man and punch his mug when he’s down. Not for the first time, David cursed the Entity for preventing him from fighting the killers head-on during the Trials.

That didn’t stop him from doing whatever he can to make sure this new survivor can live.

Min quickly understood how the killer works in that Trial, and likely other Trials to come. When her team-mates’ heads are hanging, it means they are dreaming, which then means the killer can attack them. Together with Nea, she figured out how to stay awake and remain out of the killer’s reach.

As the girls worked on generator after generator, David stayed in dreaming state to harass and distract the killer. Just as the gates are powered, however, David is struck down… and the killer walked past him to chase the survivor he arrived with.

It will be the young man’s third time on the hook if he gets downed. Min is at one gate, and Nea is only close enough to heal David.

“There’s no saving him. We have to go,” Nea said after David is well enough to run.

He gritted his teeth at the thought of leaving a new friend behind, but Nea was right. And there was something odd about the way this new killer hunts: he keeps going for the other guy, and only him. Even when David is in the picture, the other survivor is his only concern.

So David gave the direction of the activated hook one last glance, and ran with Nea to the gate where Min was waiting.

“Is this new killer for real? That’s not how Obsessions work,” she remarked.

“I’d like to know his beef with the new bloke,” David responded. The cuts on his back sting, as does the feeling of letting a team-mate down, but he has to keep running.

* * *

The three who survived that Trial rushed toward the Campfire. At the sight of this, many of the other survivors also began gathering nearby, waiting for the newest of their number to be fully resurrected.

“There he is. Let’s give him some space,” Claudette alerted them.

A beam of light (much like a map marker) indicated where the new survivor would appear, and sure enough, his translucent figure solidified into existence. It took him some time to wake up, and the others waited quietly until he finally did.

“Whoa. Who are all of you?” he asked.

“We’re survivors.”

He said his name is Quentin Smith. Bill and Feng Min began explaining to him where he is and what his life has become. It will take some time for the notion of being a survivor to sink in, but in the meantime, Claudette gifts him with a med-kit, for which he is grateful.

David remained at the fringe of the survivor commotion, arms folded. Well, yes, he wanted to get to know Quentin better, but he already made his first impression as the man who failed to protect him.

“Hey, there you are.”

David offered his hand to shake, which the younger man did.

“Sorry I couldn’t save you,” David said in a low voice.

Quentin gave him a gentle smile. “It’s alright. I know you tried,” he replied.

Laughter echoed from beyond a line of trees that bordered the Campfire area. Nea looked out for the disturbance in the grass where the killer would be, but she didn’t need to: the burned man in the hat and striped sweater is fully visible outside the Trials.

Ghastly screaming preceded the Nurse’s appearance, hovering between the new killer and the gathering of survivors. Jake, for one, took this as something serious: the killers rarely used their powers unless they were directly serving the Entity.

The Trapper arrived next, followed by a curious Hillbilly. The Huntress stood among the survivors, gesturing for them to get indoors while the killers deal with their newcomer.

“So you’re the Nightmare,” Evan greeted, unimpressed.

“You’d better believe it,” the small man replied, brandishing his steel claws.

“You only got one kill. Why’re ya so happy?” Max asked him.

The Doctor chuckled. “I believe our new friend has a vendetta against the survivors’ new friend,” he remarked.

“Freddy?” The name was spoken by someone unexpected. Bubba Sawyer the Cannibal shuffled past the others to stand opposite the Nightmare.

The shorter killer’s grin twisted his burned face. “Long time no see, Leatherface,” he said, and looked up at another familiar killer’s mask. “Myers.”

Michael nodded at Freddy.

“You two know each other?” Bubba asked.

“After a fashion,” Freddy explained, waving him and Michael along.

“Hey, new guy,” Evan interrupted, “you still have to learn the rules of this place.”

“I’m sure that can wait while I catch up with my old friends – or maybe they can tell me. Don't wait up,” Freddy said dismissively.

While the other killers dispersed, Evan stood where he is, frowning in the direction where steel kept scraping against steel. He can’t be sure how the Entity feels, but he personally dislikes this new killer.

* * *

Up until recently, most survivors and killers interacted in a civil manner, and some are even friendly with each other. Now with Freddy here, many of the survivors are starting to take up after Bill, who already refrains from being drawn into contact with people who kill him on a regular basis.

Generally speaking, it’s impossible for survivors to interact amiably with Freddy, who treats them only as his victims or his toys. Nobody can stand being with him, what with him talking them down when they are within earshot. As if that was not enough, he plays at attacking the survivors whenever he could, passing off the pretend-violence as a joke.

The bearer of the heaviest abuse is Quentin. The Entity seems aware of this, which explains why Quentin has not been called to Trials where the Nightmare is the killer. However, there are other ways for Freddy to torment Quentin outside of Trials, such as giving Quentin nightmares of himself or of Nancy being tortured.

The killers aren’t blind to this, although Freddy worked hard to be liked by them. A minority already hated him: Evan did so at first sight, Sally despises his predatory manner, and Anna detests his victimisation of young people.

There are killers who are concerned for the welfare of the survivors outside the Trials: Max, Philip, Lisa, and Herman. They have nothing to fear from Freddy, and in fact, they had to repeatedly tell Freddy to mind his manners around the survivors. The trouble is, Freddy was only half-listening, instead only minding his manners with the survivors whenever the aforementioned killers are around.

In the middle of all this, none of the survivors could reach out to Michael Myers or Bubba Sawyer for favours; Freddy formed a clique with them from the start, a small club of superior killers. When one is in a Trial, the other two would keep to themselves, spending time away from the Compound, away from the Entity’s observation, perhaps relishing the deepening divide between survivor and killer.

While the survivors have decided long ago that they’re sick of Freddy, Evan, Sally and Anna were the ones who approached them (the ones who can still tolerate talking with killers at this point) with a probable solution.

“I’d drag him to the Entity myself, but he’s a slippery son-of-a-bitch,” Evan said.

Sally nodded. “He’d twist his story to make it look like he’s the victim of our witch hunt,” she added.

“Look,” Laurie interrupted, “when Michael was bothering me, it was easy enough for you to call him to the Entity for time-out. Can’t the Entity go teach Freddy a lesson the same way?”

“The least we have to do is take him to the tree,” Evan spoke with a glance at Sally.

“What tree? The Tree of Life?” Meg asked, seated between the Trapper and the Huntress in the Compound’s cafeteria.

“I think I know what tree you’re talking about: the big creepy oak, with symbols carved on it?” Nea asked the killers.

Anna looked at her colleagues in confusion while they gave Nea a pointed stare.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not like I sprayed graffiti on it.”

Quentin shifted his hands, propping his chin on a less tired palm. “I guess that as Freddy’s main punching bag – or scratching pole, whatever – I should go and officially lodge the complaint,” he said.

Laurie placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

Quentin nodded and smiled at her. “Thanks, but…” He lowered his eyes to the surface of the table. “Just in case Freddy tries to spoil this for us, I wanna ask David if he can come with us, y’know, be our bodyguard.”

“If it’s muscle you want, Anna, Sally and I can come with you,” Evan told him.

“We can?” Anna asked. Opposite her, Sally flexed her fingers and nodded.

Laurie smiled; this is the Campfire community she knew. “Alright, our plan is going down – as soon as David’s done with his Trial,” she spoke.

Unbeknownst to the people in the cafeteria, a little man crouched unseen below a window. He overheard their plan, right down to where it’ll be taking place.

He made little sound as he crept back to where his close compatriots are seated: around a flaming totem that was built to represent _their_ campfire. Their little club, their private place.

Bubba sniffed lightly. “Where’s food? You said you’re bringing’em,” he said.

“I had to bring something more important: some bad news,” Freddy replied.

Michael ceased sharpening his knife and raised his head.

“What happened?” Bubba asked.

“It hasn’t happened, but it’s about to.” Freddy sat at his usual place, marked by the special glove he built. He slid it over his right hand, testing the fit; once it’s ready to rend through flesh, he lowered his hand and returned his attention to his announcement.

“Tell us,” Michael told him.

Freddy gave him and Bubba a cautionary look. “Some snitches at the Compound want to stop us from having fun. We’re not going to let that happen, are we?”

Bubba looked on at Michael, who remained silent, and after a while shrugged. The tall killer has had to deal with unpleasant consequences before, and already suspected something like this will come again soon.

“So… we have to stop them first?” Bubba deduced.

“That’s correct,” Freddy answered, his little eyes narrowing further as he sneered.

He stood up, and Bubba immediately followed suit. He gazed at Michael; the Shape momentarily gave him a questioning look, but stored his knife in its belt-sheath and rose to his feet in turn.

Maybe Michael had doubts, or he could guess which survivors are the “snitches” Freddy talked about. But no, he doesn’t need to tell his friends the details – not that it mattered. Those mad little try-hards must be stopped anyway.

* * *

Evan led the way to the carved-up oak, followed by Quentin, Laurie, and David (who recently recuperated from the Wraith’s sacrifice). Sally and Anna brought up the rear, chatting softly about music and chewy candies.

The almost-casual mood was broken when they encountered the two classical masked killers blocking their path. From between them emerged their hat-wearing figurehead.

“Get out of the way, you ugly bat,” Evan said to Freddy, then to the other two, “and you guys: you’ve got nothing better to do?”

Freddy responded with a thin-lipped smile. “If you want us to get out of the way,” he said, raising the clawed glove before his face, “then you have to make us.”

Evan growled, then glanced back at the two killers who are backing him up. Sally floated forward, Anna striding forth at a similar pace.

Doubt hung in the air between the unarmed tree-visitors and the armed band of killers, however. What gave reluctance to the Nurse and the Huntress was neither the knife at the Shape’s waist nor the cattle hammer in the Cannibal’s hand: it was the comradery, the companionship that Sally and Anna shared with Michael and Bubba – as well as several other survivors – when murder was not the main agenda.

They don’t want to hurt the boys even if they had to.

A slim figure marched up between the female killers and edged past the Trapper.

“Laurie, no!”

“What the hell?”

Laurie hardened her resolve. Quentin and David are right to be concerned, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt for them to have more faith in her.

She is wearing her sternest Babysitter face.

With hands on her waist, she stared at Michael and Bubba in turns. “You guys,” she spoke, “I know that during Trials, things get bloody and the Entity asks you to hunt and sacrifice survivors. But outside of Trials we get to live peacefully and have fun without getting hurt.”

Laurie folded her arms, still eyeing the two hulking figures behind Freddy. “I can’t believe you guys would let this small, angry burned man turn you against the community that we’ve built together.”

Freddy smirked and took steps towards her.

“Alright, little lady. That’s enough out of you,” he said.

He raised his clawed hand with the intention of slashing Laurie – but it looked like he drew too far back, because his burned face is overcome with agony.

Fuelled by instinct and urgency, David lunged past Laurie and delivered a punch right in Freddy’s nose. That blow knocked the dream demon onto his back.

Beneath his mask, Evan smiled.

“Damn!” Quentin exclaimed. Ahead of him, Sally muttered “Oh my,” and Anna whooped out a laugh.

David straightened up, standing over Freddy. “Been dyin’ ter do that,” he said.

Laurie just blinked at him, her eyes wide from what just transpired. But soon she relaxed, thinking there was a pun in his words that Nea would laugh at.

At that point, Bubba and Michael watched as their self-appointed leader fell, neither of them going forward to help Freddy up. Well, Michael did move as if to hold Freddy’s right arm and pull him to his feet. Then again, it turns out he was just tugging the clawed glove off of Freddy’s hand and throwing it away.

On the ground, the Nightmare that once terrorised the Campfire groaned with pain. The simple act of sitting up became difficult for him.

“But why…? What’s happening?” he rasped out.

A hair-raising noise commanded the attention of killers and survivors alike. The source of that sound is the carved-up oak tree, from which two giant spider legs now hang.

“Holy shite,” David said under his breath.

_Do you want to know what’s happening to you, Nightmare?_

They could hear It. The Entity Itself is speaking.

Sally’s feet met the earth; her knees buckled as she steadied herself. Anna inhaled sharply, clenching her teeth at the appearance of the killers’ feared and revered deity. Bubba and Michael turned around to face the carved-up oak, their heads as well as Evan’s slightly lowered in deference.

_You as well as your colleagues know that I gave you powers to use during Trials,_ the Entity continued. _Just as I took away some of the survivors’ natural strength so that the Trials play out the way they should._

Upon hearing the words “natural strength”, Laurie and Quentin stole a glance at David.

_I am the reason you can resist so much pain during the Trials. As you can see, I can take away your strength as well._

For a moment, only a gust of wind filled the silence among them. Quentin absorbed the Entity’s words; then, hands in his coat pockets, he gathered his courage and moved to stand beside Laurie.

“Can he die here? Outside of Trials?” he asked in the spider-legged oak’s direction.

Freddy looked over his shoulder and cast Quentin a wrathful glance. He gritted his teeth, determined to show no fear even as he pleaded with the killers he met a long time ago.

“Leatherface. Myers,” he called out, “you can’t let them do this to me – to us! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Michael coldly walked away, moving out of the path of those that intended to visit the Entity’s tree. On the path, Bubba gazed wordlessly at Freddy, then the oak, then at the remaining killers, wondering what he’s supposed to do.

Sally has an idea. “Can you hold down his hands, Junior? I’ll get his feet,” she requested.

Bubba nodded and did so, amid protests from the pathetic little man that once bossed him and Michael around.

“You might wanna stay back,” Evan told the three survivors, pounding his right fist into his left palm in sadistic expectation.

“Do you have _any_ idea who you’re crossing, you cheap Jason Voorhees knock-off?” Freddy hollered, still trying to appear intimidating even though his hat has fallen and his limbs are weighed down.

Evan wasted no time or breath trading words. He went straight to bashing Freddy’s face in.

“I’ll get to mash ’im to pulp, too, right?” David asked over the sounds of violence and pain.

“You already punch. Wait for turn,” Anna told him, though not without a small smile.

Quentin folded his arms, contented to stay around and watch.

“Alright. As happy as I am that the Entity took care of all this – and you fellas are following up – I’m gonna go now,” Laurie told him and David.

Michael walked toward her and offered a hand, and she held it in hers. Shortly after, they walked back to the Campfire together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regardless of which survivor I play, 75% of the time I am the first victim for the killer to find.  
> I had difficulties trying to write Freddy. Right now I’m basing him on The Nightmare on Elm Street (2010) where he and Quentin are from. I also watched the original (1984), but only once so far.  
> Random note: I want David King to meet Eliot Spencer from Leverage. I mean, I think Eliot already taught Michael how knives are like people – it’s all about context.  
> Another random note: if Freddy is Starscream, then Michael is Thundercracker and Bubba is Skywarp.


End file.
